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Amidst a darke thicke wood there is a caue, Whose entrance is with Iuie ouerspread, They haue no light within, nor none they craue, ••ere Sleepe doth couch her ouerdrowsie head, ••nd sloath lies by that seemes the goute to haue. ••nd Idlenes not so well taught as fed, ••hey point forgetfulnes the gate to keepe, ••hat none come out or in to hinder Sleepe. ••he knowes no meanes of men, ne none will learne, ••heir messages she list not vnderstand:
She knowes no busines doth her concerne, Silence is Sentinell of all this band, And vnto those he comming doth discerne To come too neere, he beckens with his hand, He treadeth soft, his shooes are made of felt, His garment short, and girded with a belt. S. I. H.
By care lay heauie sleepe, the couzen of death, Flat on the ground, and still as any stone: A very corps, saue yeelding forth a breath, Small keepe tooke he whom fortune frownd on, Or whom she lifted vp into the throne Of high renowne: but as a liuing death, So dead aliue, of life he drew the breath. M. Sack.
A drowsie head to earth by dull desire Draws downe the soule that should to heauen aspire. Writing these later lines, wearie well-nie Of sacred Pallas, pleasing labour deare, Mine humble chin saluteth oft my brest, With an Ambrosian deawe mine eies possest By peece-meale close; all moouing powers die still, From my dull fingers drops my fainting quill. Downe in my sloath-bound bed againe I shrinke, And in darke Laethe all deepe cares I sinke. I. Syl.